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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23386492">Lavender Teahouse</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finally_Home/pseuds/Finally_Home'>Finally_Home</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ, EXO (Band), K-pop, NCT (Band), Red Velvet (K-pop Band), SMTown</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cafe AU, Coming of Age, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Nostalgia, Slice of Life, and kids in college, cafe owner!yunho, college town, finding yourself, it's like your typical cafe au but sort of not?, photographer!changmin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 15:21:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,739</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23386492</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finally_Home/pseuds/Finally_Home</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There stands, in the middle of a small mountain town called Cheongsu, a quaint little teashop painted lavender. You might stand outside, hesitate for a bit, but the urge to step inside will overwhelm you. When you enter, you’ll find a smiling man behind the counter who asks you what you want today, and you’ll stop and stare at the menu for a second before hesitating still and ordering the simplest plain milk tea, but he’ll smile with his eyes and when he goes to make it, you’ll sit down at a table near the back and look into the small garden, butterfly bushes and daffodils waving in the breeze, and then he’ll call out your name, eyes shining, and you’ll fall in love.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Byun Baekhyun/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay, Jung Yunho/Shim Changmin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>If you were to tire of the gray skies and glass skyscrapers of Seoul, you could escape, leave for just a bit, to the vibrant countryside of the mountains a while away. The train takes two hours, and you can watch the dreary concrete houses fall away to bright green fields and clear blue skies. When the train stops and sweet mountain air fills your lungs, that’s when you’ll feel alive again, walking down the small concrete road to the town below. You’ll find that, despite being a modern town, Cheongsu still retains many of its rural charms, and you don’t mind it at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The most noticeable building in town is undoubtedly the clock tower of Cheongsu University, affectionately nicknamed the Big Ding-Dong by students and residents. Cheongsu is very much a typical college town, and you will find very little malice here. Even the manager of the small homestyle hotel you stay in, when you tell him how long you want to stay, offers you a discount if you’re staying more than three days, and the other townspeople, recognizing you as an outsider, will enthusiastically recommend places to eat and see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You might feel pressured, but you know they don’t mean any harm.What’s the point in relaxing if you don’t explore a bit? They mentioned something about a cafe, incredibly popular with the university students. It was started by an outsider, they say when you ask. He moved here three years ago and it was a huge hit immediately. You learn through the students that the man who owns the cafe is friendly and kind, and his milk tea is to die for, having propelled the majority of the students through days good and bad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If the thought strikes you to visit, which it will, the townspeople will point you through downtown, about a block away from the actual university campus, to a quaint little shop called Realitea. It’s in the perfect location, you’ll find, close enough to campus but also the general residential neighborhood, painted a nice shade of lavender and framed by climbing roses around the entrance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When you enter, you’ll find a smiling man behind the counter who asks you what you want today, and you’ll stop and stare at the menu for a second before hesitating still and ordering the simplest plain milk tea, but he’ll smile with his eyes and when he goes to make it, you’ll sit down at a table near the back and look into the small garden, butterfly bushes and daffodils waving in the breeze, and then he’ll call out your name, eyes shining, and you’ll fall in love.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>crossposted on aff</p><p>comments make the world turn, so pls drop one if you enjoyed!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. One.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Welcome to Realitea, how can I help you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His back is turned, and any normal person would wait for him to finish what he’s doing before ordering, but the girl bounces up to the counter and rattles off a ten-ingredient coffee drink in one breath, eyes shining with amusement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man turns around, an exasperated but kind smile on his lips. His name tag reads ‘Yunho: Owner’, and he wears a cream-colored sweater underneath a black apron. “Seulgi,” he says patiently, “I know for sure there’s a Starbucks on campus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pretty girl laughs, brushing long hair off her shoulders. “But no one’s on par with Lavender Teahouse,” she says, voice trembling just a bit. “I’ll just have my usual then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hums, and Seulgi sits down at a table near the front of the room, putting her bag down with a loud thump. The day is cold and clear, but the cafe is warm and cozy. She doesn’t unwrap her scarf, doesn’t take off her coat, instead looking out the window at the empty street. There are few people out and about, and most of them are students anyway, going grocery shopping after class. The bare brown stems of the climbing roses rattle in a sudden gust of wind, and Yunho sets a steaming porcelain cup down on the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rose milk tea, no boba, extra sugar. I made it hot because it’s cold today.” He sits down across from her; there are no other customers in the store anyway. “What’s wrong, Seul?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugs, not pretending that nothing’s wrong but also not elaborating. “Oh, you know,” she says, somewhat evasively. “The usual.” Yunho nods but otherwise does not speak, and after a while, Seulgi takes a breath and continues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They keep saying that they’ll disown me if I actually graduate with a dance major, but like, what can I do by this point? I can’t change my major now, even if I wanted to.” She brings the cup to her lips with both hands, blowing on it with a huff. Yunho hums, studying her face. Calm piano music fills the silence. “And, like, they keep comparing me with my sister. It’s not like I’m older so they experimented on me and made their mistakes and fucked me up and did her right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her words are bitter, and Yunho nods, looking out at the clear blue sky. “You’re financially independent,” he says quietly. “Not well off, but independent. And I can always pay you more. You don’t have to keep them in your life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seulgi opens her mouth, but before she can say anything, the door opens, the chime jingles, and a young boy bursts into the shop with a swirl of crisp winter air. Yunho whirls around with a loud screech of his chair, and Seulgi smiles, eyes softening. “Hey, Chenle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seulgi-noona!” The boy shakes his hair away from his face, and the old woman with him helps him shrug out of his coat. “Yunho-hyung, the regular, please, and Grandma wants to try the thai tea this time!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely!” With a smile to both boy and woman, Yunho ducks behind the counter. Machines clank and whirr, and Chenle drops into his still-warm chair, his grandmother taking a seat at the next table. “But I thought school didn’t end until three?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dentist appointment.” Despite being in middle school, Chenle gives off the feel of simultaneously an adult and a young child. But somewhere beneath his dazzling brightness, Yunho knows there hides an intense maturity. “I didn’t want to go back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yunho lets out a laugh, raising his voice above the boba machine. “So you skipped school to come see me? Bad child.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The light teasing is not lost on Grandma, who - despite not fully understanding the language - chuckles kindly as he places her order in front of her. He smiles - he’s always had a soft spot for the woman - and Chenle takes his own taro boba from the tray.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, he watches his three customers drink their tea in silence, with only soothing instrumental music in the background. Seulgi seems distant, Chenle a bit too excited, and Grandma… the same as always, he supposes, a thoughtful look in her eye as she regards him. He hesitates, almost speaks, but Chenle interrupts before the words leave his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyung,” he says through a mouthful of boba. Yunho can’t help but huff in amusement. “Are you going to have another Christmas party?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a second, he can’t process the words. Then he’s just baffled. “It’s barely November, Lele.” But Seulgi laughs, finally unwrapping her scarf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s November, which means Thanksgiving and then Christmas.” She takes out a laptop from her bag and sets it up, smiling at the boy across from her. “I can’t wait, honestly. I’m so ready for a break from all this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither Chenle nor Yunho comments on the dark circles beneath her eyes. Yunho makes a mental note to give her shorter shifts, to pay her more, and Chenle only nods into his drink. “Hyung,” he suddenly says, and Yunho’s head snaps up. “No, never mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He discerns the meaning behind the boy’s sideways glance at his grandmother and nods, leaning against the countertop. “Okay. If you ever need anything, I’ll be here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a stranger in front of his shop. He doesn’t enter, only loiters around the front, looking at the storefront with bright Bambi eyes. The hair falling into his eyes is colored a beautiful honey brown, and the smile he gives to the dead climbing roses could light up an entire night. He doesn’t look inside the window, and Yunho watches him from behind the counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s new, he must be, because Yunho doesn’t recognize him, and by this point, he recognizes most of the people in Cheongsu. Small college town, after all; everyone knows everyone, at least by sight if not by name. He wonders if the newcomer is permanent or simply a tourist, tired of Seoul’s gray skies and busy lights, seeking a temporary escape into the rawness of Gyeonggi’s mountains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that it matters, not really. But he really is too pretty, and Yunho can’t help but fall a little bit in love, captivated by the way the stranger shakes his hair out of his eyes, turns his face to the sun, smiles a bit. The late afternoon sunlight strikes his skin in just the right way and he glows, a deity under the endless sky, a god in a mundane world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His selfish - and shameful - daydreamings are interrupted by the endless clanging of the bells on the door. Lines upon lines of tired college students filter into the shop, waiting patiently for Yunho to take and make their orders. They really do treat him well, he thinks with a surge of warmth. They understand that he’s only one person, a lone figure struggling against the ocean of life and work, and have never said a bad word to or about him, ever, in the three years he’s lived here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly but surely, he makes his way through the orders. Taro milk tea, no boba, no sugar. Raspberry tea, milk but no sugar. Mocha latte. Hot chocolate. Melon milk tea, extra boba, extra sugar, normal ice. Peach blossom tea, sugar but no milk. Double espresso. Chai latte. Lavender milk tea, no boba, extra sugar. Another double espresso. Plain milk tea, extra sugar, extra ice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes he worries about these kids, staying up all night to finish their homework, ruining their bodies and the time of their youth, forcing the caffeine into their systems until they’re addicted, until the drug no longer works and they have to resort to more, come to him asking for more. He worries about them, sometimes, and says so with a wrinkle of his brow, a pat on the shoulder, a ruffle of their hair. But the kids smile at him and say, sorry for worrying you, it’s fine, it’s just this week, it’s just tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time the line reaches the end, the sun is already setting. The last two customers come forward together, absently talking to each other, and Yunho grins. “The usuals, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The taller one smiles sweetly, flashing a deep dimple. “Thanks, hyung,” he says, but his companion interrupts, a dazzling grin on his face, silver hair falling past his forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yixing-hyung says he wants to try the wintermelon one!” he exclaims gleefully, like a child in a candy store. Yixing shoves him gently, but he only sticks his tongue out at the older boy. “He said he wondered how you were gonna make it taste good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yunho staggers backwards dramatically, clutching his chest. “Zhang Yixing!” he gasps out. “How dare you question my abilities? Stay right there, I’m going to make your entire world flip upside down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yixing throws back his head and groans. “Baekhyun!” he whines as his companion giggles. “Really, Baekhyun, I didn’t say that. I said--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said you wondered how it tasted because wintermelon literally tastes like nothing,” Baekhyun supplies. “But you still wanted to try it. Ah, hyung, don’t forget my order!” he calls to Yunho, who flashes an okay sign without turning around. Baekhyun grins and drags Yixing over to their usual spot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sit in the very back corner, the one closest to the bathrooms. Baekhyun’s hair practically glows under the fairy lights, and shadows dance on Yixing’s face. Yunho looks up briefly to find them engrossed in conversation, Yixing’s fingers tapping out a soundless rhythm on the wooden tabletop. Baekhyun’s eyes follow the movements, and Yunho suppresses a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wintermelon milk tea, regular boba, regular sugar, hot,” he announces, placing the cup in front of Yixing. “And matcha boba, regular, extra sugar, regular ice.” He shoots Baekhyun a look as the boy wraps his hands around his cup. “I will never understand why you kids order cold drinks in the middle of winter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yixing laughs. “Baekhyun has too much heat in his body,” he says with a glance at his friend. “Also, sometimes we need the stimulation to stay awake. Oh, this is really good!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun snorts; Yunho smiles. “Thank you, Yixing,” he says lightly. “Wintermelon wasn’t hard to make a drink with because like you said, it tastes like nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baekhyun chokes on his drink, and Yunho pats his back. “How are your classes going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At this, both groan. Yixing leans his head back and bonks it on the wall. Baekhyun leans forward and puts his head on the table. Yunho’s eyebrows rise into his bangs. “Wow, that bad, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck am I going to with a math PhD?” Baekhyun moans. “I’m already dying doing research and I will literally murder myself if I have to do more. Like, what the fuck am I going to be researching? Another way to prove the quadratic formula?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone actually did that, you know.” Yixing puts his chin in his hands. “Someone in America, I think. Carnegie Mellon University? My cousin went there, for music.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yunho shoots him a glance. The boy doesn’t say anything, doesn’t meet his eyes, but Yunho knows he hates his major as well. Not because of the lack of research in electrical engineering, but because it’s not his true passion, not in the way music is. But Yixing’s family is poor, and his education alone, even with scholarships and grants, places enormous financial pressure on them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy feels obligated to repay his family. Yunho lowers his head a bit, hiding the bitter smile that he can’t help. If he hadn’t felt the same way ten years ago, he would probably be much happier, be somewhere better in life, far along the path he’d wanted to take.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he would have never lived down the guilt, and he thinks it’s the same for Yixing. He offers the boy a tight smile and ruffles his hair. “It’ll be okay,” he says, even though it likely won’t. “If it works out, great. If not, that’s life. Sometimes we need to fail in order to see the way we need to go down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s so deep.” Baekhyun’s voice is teasing, but he hears a hint of contemplation in it. “What would you be doing then, hyung? If you hadn’t failed and come here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yunho starts. The words strike cold in his chest, even though he knows that was not the intention. Yixing’s eyes widen, and he slaps Baekhyun’s arm. “That’s so rude!” he hisses. “Oh my god, Baekhyun, apologize!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A flash of guilt enters Baekhyun’s eyes, but Yunho hastily waves off the concern, unwilling to make the boy feel worse. “It’s okay. I would be…” He trails off, fixing them with an odd gaze. “I haven’t told you this before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heads shake. Yunho has a nagging suspicion that Baekhyun, at least, definitely knows part of the story. “I majored in biochem, went into the industry to develop new drugs, hated every second of it. But it paid well, and I paid off my debts soon enough. Then three years ago, I decided I couldn’t take any more, so I quit, moved here, and started this shop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flashes a genuine smile at the disbelieving look on Yixing’s face. “I’m happy here, really, even though I don’t make much and have to work harder than I did before. But hey, on the bright side, I don’t have any more debt and my family’s stable.” For now, he doesn’t add, but they don’t need to know that.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this chapter was originally meant to be two, but i decided it'd be too short that way; it does mean that updates will be few and far between, though</p><p>crossposted on aff; pls leave a comment and kudo if you enjoyed!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Two.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The beautiful stranger he saw yesterday is back. Yunho smiles a bit, peering at the man through the window. The morning sun reflects off the glass, and he knows that his obvious ogling will not be seen from the street. He wonders if he’ll ever come in. He must have been directed here by locals, after all, as a ‘must-visit’ sort of place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right as the thought crosses his mind, the man looks up, meets his eyes through the window, and Yunho starts, flailing backwards, heart pounding. His cheeks feel unreasonably hot, and he tries to calm down enough to look presentable, because he knows the bells will be jingling at any moment now, admitting the prettiest man he’d ever seen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And jingle they do. The beautiful man walks in hesitatingly, a small smile gracing his lips. Yunho subtly tries to straighten his apron and smiles widely, hoping his voice doesn’t shake. “Hi, welcome to Realitea, what can I get you today?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hesitates, looking at the menu plastered above Yunho’s head. Yunho waits patiently, and in the end, the man clears his throat and says, in the softest, prettiest voice he’d ever heard, “Just a plain milk tea please. Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yunho nods, smiling at the man again, and turns to make the drink. He wills his heart to stop pounding in his chest, but for some reason, his hands tremble and the heat won’t recede from his face. It doesn’t take very long to make simple milk tea, and before long, he has a cup of beige-colored liquid on the counter in front of him. Yunho pauses before bringing it out, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, hoping that he doesn’t seem like too much of a mess.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sits at one of the tables overlooking the garden. When Yunho brings his drink, he’s looking out at the empty butterfly bushes, the newly-planted daffodil sprouts barely peeking out from the dirt. The look he gives Yunho is startled as he sits down across from him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s your name?” Yunho prompts, hoping he sounds kind instead of creepy. “I make it a personal hobby to know all my customers’ names.” Oh, he thinks, as soon as the words leave his mouth. Oh no, that definitely sounded creepy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A flush rises on the other man’s cheeks, and he smiles into his milk tea, eyes crinkling prettily, before answering, looking into Yunho’s eyes, “Shim Changmin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yunho nods. “Changmin,” he repeats, turning the name over in his mouth. It fits the man, pretty and soft and all round syllables, as if he was biting into the fluffy depths of a pastel pink fairground cotton candy. “Changmin. Nice to meet you, I’m Jung Yunho.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.” Changmin has a nice smile, mirth and mischievousness sparkling in his eyes. “It’s on your name tag.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heat rushes to his face, and Yunho laughs loudly, the sound echoing around the empty room. He almost apologizes for it, but Changmin doesn’t seem to mind, lifting the cup to his lips with another smile. He looks really nice with that smile, Yunho’s brain thinks stupidly, as he props his head up in his hands. They sit in silence for a while, Changmin looking around the cafe and Yunho trying not to look too hard at Changmin, and then, because he can’t stand the silence, Yunho says, “Why did you come to Cheongsu?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He expects Changmin to dodge the question, to close himself off as strangers tend to do. He doesn’t expect Changmin to shrug and answer. “I’m tired,” he says plainly, voice dropping a few pitches. “I’m out of work, need new inspiration.” It seems he has more to say, but he doesn’t elaborate, and Yunho doesn’t press.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you an artist?” He thinks he can imagine Changmin standing in front of an easel, paintbrush in hand and colorful splatters on his skin. “There’s not much to draw around here, unless you count the university and the mountains.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no.” Changmin puts down his cup, reaching beside him into the bag that Yunho hadn’t noticed until now. “I’m a photographer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without realizing, Yunho’s mouth had fallen open on its own. “That’s so cool!” he says, and he means it. “So you came here to take pictures?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Changmin smiles, cheeks pink with embarrassment. “Well, I hoped I would find something.” He hesitates. “I’m… particular about what I photograph. I hoped I could find something that I liked enough to want to document.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s very good at words, at expressing himself in the most accurate terms possible. Yunho smiles so hard that he feels crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. “I hope you will!” he exclaims. There’s a slightly itchy feeling in his chest, and he wants nothing more than to sit with Changmin all day, talk to him about photography and Cheongsu and anything else the man wants to talk about, but the bells on his door jingle, and he looks up to find his morning regulars.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turns, apologetic, but Changmin beats him to it. “I won’t keep you, then,” he says with another smile. “Thank you, Yunho. If you’re still open later today, I’ll stop by again.” His eyes are dark but bright, and Yunho sees stars shining in their depths. “I’ll visit every day I’m staying, if you don’t mind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He spends the entire day daydreaming about Changmin, revelling in the lilting Seoul accent of his voice, the soft way he looked at him like he was someone he wanted to get to know better, the way he said Yunho’s name, the way his name had felt in his mouth, the way he’d left the table sparkling clean for the next person to use. By the time Irene clocks in, Yunho feels sick to the heart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oppa!” She’s shocked, leaning forward to put her hand on his forehead. “Do you have a fever? Your face is really red.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He waves her off and mumbles an excuse, something that sounds oddly like ‘pretty visit later hope man’. He doesn’t really know, but thankfully, Irene knows him better than he knows himself, and she only huffs out a laugh before taking her place at the register.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When had they met again? It must have been the very beginning, when he’d just opened shop and she was still in undergrad, a shy lit major looking for a quiet place to read and write her papers. They’d spent months in comfortable silence, but then, desperate for help to keep up with the demands of the sleep-deprived population, he’d approached her with a job offer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In retrospect, it was sort of creepy of him to do that, but Yunho’s brain never goes as far as to analyze every possible interpretation of his actions. He’s a simple man, lives in the moment, never gives a second thought to what might have been and what could have been done. If it’s over, it’s over, and there’s no need dwelling on it any further, is there?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But a small part of his heart, long since hidden away, throbs with ironic pain. He glances at Irene, currently playing on her phone since there’s no one in the store. Well, creepy as it was, he has to admit that it turned out well. Granted, though, she took her time opening up to him. He would have never guessed that her parents were rich business owners working in England, never would have guessed that she’d studied abroad twice, never would have guessed that she’d be taking over the company after her parents stepped down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What he could have guessed, though, was that she didn’t want to do it. She’s a lit major, just wants to sit in her libraries and cafes and drink her coffees and wear her berets and analyze humanity through text. She doesn’t fit the role of businesswoman, all cold and sharp and wit and mind. No, Yunho could never see her like that. To him, she’ll always be the soft little girl wearing her hair in pigtails, curled up in one of his chairs, lost to the world in the mind of Oscar Wilde or whatever Romantic writer occupied her mind at the moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But this is life, and sometimes life doesn’t work out ideal. He knows that Irene only has one more year left, after which she’ll undoubtedly move back to England, put up a mask and become the sharp businesswoman her parents have groomed her to be. It almost pains him, in a way, to see the little girl he watched grow up grow up even more, become an adult and navigate the world of cruel men and women on her own, and he hopes she’ll retain at least a bit of her true self.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hopes he can make the remaining few years fun for her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door crashes open, abruptly pulling Yunho out of whatever place his mind had been in before. Irene sighs, putting away her phone. “Be careful with the door,” she chides. “That’s expensive. You can’t afford to replace it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You mean I can’t afford to replace it,” Yunho mutters quietly, but the boy standing in front of them only laughs. “You want the usual, Mark? You’re early today, I thought lunch was 12:50.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something odd shines in the boy’s eyes, and Irene shoots him a warning glance. Yunho promptly shuts up and gets to making the watermelon milk tea. Less boba, less sugar, extra ice, he remembers. In the meantime, Mark sits down near the front window. The sunshine falls upon his hands, and he curls his fingers, pulling down the sleeves of his bomber jacket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” Yunho asks when he brings the order out. “Stay as long as you want, okay? I can always let you into the back room if you need some space.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mark half-shrugs and sips at his drink. “Can you,” he starts abruptly, and then stops. “Can you, I don’t know, sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wants Yunho to sit with him but is too embarrassed to ask. Yunho sits, pulling out a chair, and Irene strategically retreats to the back room. Neither of them speaks, and though Yunho usually tends to fill the silence with words, he knows that Mark only wants some company. The boy will speak on his own time, given it, and Yunho gives it, sitting with him under the late morning sun, watching the bare branches of the trees outside wave in the wind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I miss Canada,” Mark says quietly, when his drink is no more than ice melting away in a plastic cup. “I can’t keep up with the classes here. My Korean’s not a problem, but I feel so stupid.” He looks down at the table, tracing invisible lines on the surface with his finger. “I can’t keep up with math, I never learned the science, and I don’t know any history.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yunho listens to all this, nodding when the boy pauses for breath. Korean high schools are not known for being easy, and for someone who grew up with Western education, it must really seem too harsh. Mark’s eyes are too shiny to be natural, and Yunho dips his head, pretending not to notice the waver in his voice. He doesn’t speak when the boy stops speaking, doesn’t move except to offer a tissue. He doesn’t look, instead turning to look out the window again, though both of them know he’s not focused on anything in particular.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” the boy finally says, nose stuffed. “I, hyung, I’m glad you’re here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yunho smiles a bit. Mark’s eyes are puffy and red, but who hasn’t broken down in public before, or come close enough to it? “I’m glad you trust me enough,” he responds, and stands. “One second.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mark’s eyes follow him, slightly curious, and widen when Yunho places a Diet Coke on the table in front of him. “On the house,” he says with a smile and wink. “Don’t tell Irene, she’s a sucker for inventory checks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What’s a Coke worth, two dollars? It’s worth the smile blooming on Mark’s face as he laughs, and Yunho leans back in his chair, watching the boy through half-lidded eyes. No, he may not be doing what he once wanted to do, but he doesn’t regret it at all. Not one bit.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i wasn't very satisfied with this, and it felt like i was writing romantic stuff between yun and irene (but i'm genuinely not ;;)... the entire thing felt sort of condescending too :/// idk i might leave this off for a while (ya another long while) to revamp or, idk, make it less condescending somehow???</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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